


About That Beer

by localjester



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Alcohol, Arm Wrestling, Black Mesa (Half-Life), Its just a lot of bets, M/M, Office Shenanigans basically, Selectively Mute Gordon Freeman, because I am gay!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29388180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/localjester/pseuds/localjester
Summary: A series of bets and other related events to tell the tale of why Barney owed Gordon that beer and when he finally got it, sort of.
Relationships: Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	1. New Hire

**Author's Note:**

> I started out thinking this would be a short thing, but of course it didn't end up that way! this was also my substitution for writing a really long slow burn office romance for these two that i WANT to exist but am not strong enough to make by my lonesome. Maybe one day...

One of the most reliable (and memorable) constants in Gordon and Barney’s friendship were the frequent bets. All those years ago when they were working down in Black Mesa, it proved to be an effective way to cut through the monotony of the seemingly endless weeks. Most everyone who knew Gordon and Barney - even in passing - knew about their bets, it was kind of their  _ thing _ . That’s probably just what happens when you end up racing in air vents on the regular, though, you become “The Guys Who Race in the Vents.” Before that though, they were “The Guys That Made Bets With Eachother” because they did it with such consistency. Barney could always count on one of them starting a bet to keep themselves entertained, no matter the place or time. It was with simple certainty that Barney knew just as the sun set and rose over the surface of the desert every day that he and Gordon would surely make a bet with each other before too long.

Barney loved it. It was dependable, tried-and-true, a fact of life. Bets were a constant.

Well, bets  _ and  _ beer, but those two things usually went hand in hand. It was the unspoken agreement between them that when no other prize was discussed, the loser owes the winner a beer.

Even now, more than a decade later, Barney can still recall a lot of the bets they had made, even who had won them and how. He’s pretty sure he can remember the majority of them too - not just the big ones either, but the little spur-of-the-moment ones too. From the ones that lasted for months and nearly ended in bodily harm, to the ones about movie release dates or if that giant wolf spider that had moved into Kleiner’s office had finally keeled over from malnutrition yet. (Eventually, Barney became convinced that Gordon was feeding and watering it somehow and stopped making bets on it. If the world didn’t end he thinks the gal might still be down there in the ruins of Black Mesa - if spiders could live that long that is.) In the years since the Resonance Cascade Barney has thought about the bets they made often and in fondness. Over time though, the memories have gotten fuzzy and faint, for more than half of the bets he can’t quite remember  _ why  _ the bet had been made in the first place. Most likely, it was a case of the two of them being bored, overworked and not seeing the sky as much as they should’ve. Maybe a combination of those three and the prospect of a free beer. 

No matter how small the bet was or what the winner got, they were both meticulous about keeping track of the debts. Barney, even back then, was not keen to pass up on alcohol  _ especially  _ when it didn’t cost him anything.

So it’s with the stone-cold simple certainty that Barney Calhoun knows the sun still rises and sets, that he knows he owes Gordon Freeman a beer still.

He thinks about it a lot - probably more than he should. About how he owes a beer to a man that has probably been dead for about two decades. In the wreckage of Black Mesa and the ensuing end of the world, they never did find his body. Somehow, the suit was recovered, though, with no sign of Gordon in it. Pouring out one on the suit (while also being a terrible idea) never felt right to him. So, he still owes Gordon that beer. Despite what the Vortiguants say, he has the feeling that he’ll never get to repay that debt - he’ll never wrap up that last bet so they can start another.

He thinks about it a lot.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Bets were so seemingly ingrained into their friendship that Gordon has somehow managed to get himself involved in a bet Barney made before the two of them had even met.

He can still remember making his way into the little surveillance room for Sector that morning, running just a  _ little  _ bit late for his next shift. As he pivots to shut the heavy metal door closed behind him, his shoes make an annoying squeak on the linoleum. The room is much darker than the hallway, the only light being the blue-ish colored glow coming from the rows of monitors on the wall. After a bit of blinking, the glow is more than enough for him to see Sezen whirl around to face him in one of the office chairs, a toothy grin on his face. Barney just hopes he isn’t about to be sent to the Security Chief’s office for being late again this week, or something dumb like that. He was  _ mostly  _ on time - and it’s not like Sezen was that much better himself.

“Hey Calhoun, come check this out.” The other guard says instead, smile broadening as he waves Barney over. Making his way across the room, careful not to trip on any stray cords, he shuffles to lean over Sezen’s shoulder, squinting into the monitor he’s sitting in front of. The harsh light is already starting to sting his eyes a bit, but he doesn’t see much on the screen at all - just some whitecoat walking in one of the hallways. Nothing really out of the ordinary.

_ Wait.  _ Barney realizes that he recognizes the hallway, and was that -

“Kleiner again?” Barney hazards, immediately amused. How the guy manages to lock himself out of his office so much, he’d never understand. Despite this, he’d always be willing to help the doctor out, his cheery disposition more than making up for his occasional forgetfulness. Plus, it was hard to get mad at the man when he was one of the only scientists in Sector C that was actually pleasant to talk to. At the very least, letting him into his own office was always a good excuse for Barney to stretch his legs. “Need me to go down there?” He asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder to the set of spare keys they keep on the wall.

Unexpectedly, Sezen waves him off, his grin still fighting for room on his face with his rather impressive mustache.

“Nah, nah, here’s the thing-” Sezen pauses as he wheels the chair around to look Barney head on, and he  _ knows  _ the other guard is doing it on purpose. He’d mentioned seeing someone talk about it on TV once, something about how it’s important to ‘ _ build suspense’  _ when telling a story. Barney fiddles with the strap on his helmet as he waits, trying not to get too annoyed. Sezen takes a slow sip from his mug of coffee before he finishes. “-He ain’t even called it in yet.”

“Well, why not?” Even though he’s been wearing the dumb thing for months, Barney’s never able to get it on quite right the first time around. He tugs on the fabric to try to get it to loosen. Maybe he just had an oddly shaped head? Or maybe the  _ helmet  _ was oddly shaped. 

“Kleiner’s working with some new guy, right? He looks like he’s fresh outta college; I bet if you shaved off the goatee he’d look fifteen - I think he just got started here today, actually. Anyway, I saw ‘em walk up and realize they were locked out, but get this-” Sezen jabs a large finger towards a blurry clump of pixels on the monitor as he rambles. “Four-Eyes - well, the new guy, not Kleiner - didn’t even seem to sweat it. He plucks the damn grate off the air vent and climbs in there like it was nothin’!” Sezen chuckles.

Sure enough, propped up at the bottom of the wall where he’s pointing is what could be the cover of an air duct, and several feet above it the vent has obviously been left open. It nearly looks like a miniature black hole as Dr. Kleiner stands there, scratching his head and staring into it, but that’s probably just a result of Barney’s overactive imagination and bad camera resolution.

“No way,” He dismisses, shooting Sezen a skeptical look. The opening for the air vent is a fair ways off the floor - higher than a lot of people could jump, much less jump  _ into. _ The thought of a scientist doing that is borderline laughable.

“Yes, way.” Sezen parrots back, just as quick, “I don’t even know how he managed to fit in the thing. He’s gotta be a fair bit taller than Kleiner.”

On the security feed, it almost looks like Kleiner is having a conversation with himself, mouth moving silently while he makes gestures to seemingly no one - or maybe just to the open air vent. While the good doctor can often be a little eccentric, Barney’s sure that he hasn’t quite reached the “Talking To The Ventilation” stage of working at Black Mesa yet.

Sezen pokes at his ribs with a sudden laugh, nearly making Barney jump. “Hey, how much you wanna bet that he gets stuck in there?”

“ _ Oh my god.”  _ Barney’s stomach drops like a stone - he hadn’t even thought of that. Pushing himself off from where he was hovering, he starts to head towards the door. “I- lemme go down there before someone gets hurt-”

Sezen catches the sleeve of Barney’s button up before he can get very far, making him nearly stumble into a chair. “No, no, no, stay here, Calhoun. ‘S free entertainment.” He waves his free hand in the air and Barney notices that his grin is tinged with yellow - probably from all the coffee he drinks. “Plus, if they need us, Kleiner knows he can just call. We’ll be the first ones down there. But until then, let's not give up the front row seats, yeah?”

Scratching at his stubble, Barney considers Sezen’s suggestion. There’s no way some scientist would hop into an air duct without knowing they could get out first, right? Especially not on their  _ first day!  _

Well… he’s seen the scientists do dumber things. For instance, just last week one of them got their hand stuck in a vending machine for over a half hour. Maybe Sezen has a point.

Barney pulls up a chair.

They turn back to the monitor to watch and Barney takes a few long moments before breaking the silence. “...I’ll bet you fifteen bucks he makes it out without any help.”

Sezen leans back in his chair and slurps from his mug again, eyes not leaving the screen. “I never took you for a bettin’ man, Calhoun-” He says, and even his mustache can’t hide the way his mouth curls up at the edges. “-But you got yourself a deal.”

What feels like hours pass as the two guards stare at the grainy image. Barney really wishes they had some kind of audio feed for this area - he’d love to know what Kleiner was rambling about as he paced up and down the hallway in front of the vent. That train of thought is derailed when suddenly, the doctor stops in his tracks and spins to face his office door.

“There’s no fuckin’ way…” Sezen starts to mutter under his breath. “There’s just no fuckin’ way.” Despite betting fiften dollars to the contrary, Barney’s sorely tempted to agree with him. Going through an air vent to open a locked door is nothing short of ridiculous, especially when you know there’s a spare set of keys. They both lean in closer to the wall of monitors, eyes straining to make out anything happening on the screen. Unconsciously, they both hold their breath like they’re watching the winning lap of the Kentucky Derby instead of a bad angle on some new hire crawling in an air duct.

After a moment of tense silence, the door to Kleiner’s office wings open from the inside.

Barney can hardly help letting out an excited  _ woop!  _ and punching the air in front of him in victory, only narrowly missing Sezen’s coffee mug.

On the screen, “Four-Eyes” (as Sezen had called him,) lets a very delighted looking Kleiner into his office, pulling the door halfway shut behind him and effectively blocking their view.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me!” The other guard groans. “Oooooh, I’m not likin’ this new guy already.”

After he’s done laughing, Barney gets up to grab the ring of keys. “I’m going to go down there - just to check on ‘em.”

As he leaves, Sezen points at him with the hand that isn’t holding onto his mug. “Hey! You let him know he owes me fifteen!”

“Fat chance!” Barney shouts back before he shuts the door.

The walk to Kleiner’s office isn’t a terribly long one, and Barney has long since learned the quickest route by heart. After hardly any time at all he finds his way there and sees that the door is still half ajar. Just in case his footsteps weren’t enough, as Barney pokes his head inside he knows on the doorframe a few times to let them know he’s there. No need to have a repeat of when he startled a scientist holding a bunch of test tubes. There wasn’t anything  _ in  _ the test tubes besides air, thank god. “Hey, Doc.”

Kleiner’s head shoots up from where he’s currently pouring over stacks of messy papers on his desk, a smile lighting up his face almost instantly, even if a few of the papers do go fluttering to the floor. On the other side of the little office, perched on the arm of a worn out loveseat, however, Four-Eyes nearly jumps out of his skin.

Sezen was right: he’s real young for a member of the science team, but still probably has a handful of years on Barney. He’s also got hair  _ much  _ longer than he would’ve ever suspected, loose and resting on his shoulders. Currently, it looks like he’s trying to wrangle the auburn strands into something resembling order with just his hands, but had frozen as soon as Barney entered. Behind thick glasses, his eyes are wide like a deer in headlights.

Kleiner is still beaming as he makes his way around the cluttered desk, handing a few papers to the new guy as he passes on his way closer to him. “Barney! What a surprise! What brings you all the way down here?”

Even when the doctor comes to stand right in front of him, Barney finds that his gaze slides right past Kleiner to where Four-Eyes spins a strand of hair around his knuckle a couple of times, then gathers it all up in his hands to pull it into a slightly messy ponytail. It looks like maybe more of a nervous tick than anything else, since as soon as the new guy has nothing else to do with his hands, he begins to bounce one of his long legs. Politely, he pretends not to stare at Barney too much as he looks over the papers that were passed over to him.

Barney wonders what has him so anxious. Does he think he’s in trouble somehow?

“I was just checkin’ in, Doc was all.” He turns back to Kleiner, the half life flowing smoothly off his tongue. Barney is curious, for sure but the new guy looks so nervous that he decides to spare him, at least for the time being. For a man that apparently doesn’t think twice about climbing into an air vent, he seems awfully timid. “I heard there was some kind of malfunction at the main gate earlier and was wondering if you got through the lobby alright.” Another lie, but still not a very big one; it seems like every day there’s a new malfunction somewhere in the facility.

Kleiner nods and says something about all the security seeming a little unnecessary sometimes while behind him, Four-Eyes plucks a pen from one of Kleiner’s many novelty mugs and starts to scribble something on the back of one of the papers.

“Honestly, I think all the different passcodes and retinal scans are malfunctioning more than they’re not!” Kleiner says with a laugh. “Maybe someone should figure out if we can get our money back. I don’t think we’ve had them installed for too very long - hm?” The doctor pauses when Four-Eyes shuffles closer to pass the paper back to Kleiner. As he reads whatever is written there, Barney takes a moment to be just a bit startled by how tall the new guy is when he’s not sitting down. He’s got to have at least half a foot on Barney and granted, while that’s not very hard to achieve, the security guard has maybe gotten a bit  _ too  _ used to being around mostly shrinking scientists in their seventies. Regardless, Barney can’t imagine him being able to fit in an air vent, much less navigate through one and while he can’t really make out the shape of the man’s arms from under his lab coat, he gets the distinct impression that he’s built like a twig.

However, Barney couldn’t imagine a fox squeezing itself through a hole that was hardly four inches across until he had seen it first hand, so he can admit that he’s been wrong about these types of things before.

Kleiner finishes reading and nods, turning to the other man. “Oh, yes! That’s quite alright, Gordon, I had been meaning to do that myself for a while now but well…” He trails off and Four-Eyes gives them both a tiny wave as he slides to the door, striding off down the hallway to who knows where. Barney catches himself staring for longer than he should, wondering where he learned to walk so quietly, the rustle of his lab coat was almost louder than his footsteps as he retreated down the hallway. He’s startled out of his thinking when Kleiner addresses him.

“Don’t worry about him, he can be a bit shy sometimes - very clever though, I wrote his recommendation myself.” Kleiner’s proud smile makes Barney wonder how exactly these two scientists even know each other. He didn’t spot much of a resemblance but the sparkle in the doctor's eyes makes him almost look… Fatherly. Barney doesn’t remember him ever mentioning a wife, though that doesn’t have much bearing on whether or not he has children, he supposes.

“Uh, well-” Barney jabs a thumb back in the direction he came from. “I got to get back to my post, Doc, but maybe you could introduce us when you get the chance?”

The lines around Kleiner’s eyes crinkle deeper as he smiles and agrees.


	2. Homoerotic Arm Wrestling is My Third Favorite Sport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay, THIS is what i wanted to be included in chapter 1. oh well, it's here now and it's still... pretty small lol. I hope you like it? They finally meet for real! And they arm wrestle, that's about it. Eli is there.

Only a few days later in the cafeteria, a group of security guards and a curious scientist or two had huddled around a clump of tables, pushed together to make room for an impromptu arm wrestling tournament.

As you do, when the week has been slowly dragging itself along as it had and word has spread around that Breen wasn’t in the facility that day - No risk of an unexpected check-in.

After the first couple of rounds the little group had grown to include people making bets on the sidelines. For whatever reason, most of these bets seemed to be in the form of soda cans instead of any kind of actual money. Regardless, Barney makes up his mind to challenge the current reigning champion - a fellow security guard named Silvia. She had only been hired a few weeks after Barney had started but he tended to only see her in passing, probably because she ended up running around helping with maintenance in the facility more than anything. Someone had mentioned something once about how she was one of the few on the security team that was small enough to be able to fit into those hard-to-reach places without getting stuck, or Lord forbid, breaking anything important.

Why, exactly, Black Mesa decided to send the guards to fix most everything instead of hiring dedicated maintenance workers was a hotly debated topic, with some of Barney’s favorite theories being that they’re  _ obviously  _ hiding something (aliens, OSHA violations, etc.) and his less favorite (but more likely) theory being that they were just too cheap for it. Whenever someone with actual credentials had been contacted to fix a problem that’s when you knew it had gotten  _ really  _ serious. 

Despite her small stature though, the growing tower of brightly colored soda cans stacked beside Silvia showed her prowess - and from the shouting that had started when she won the last round, Barney had a little hunch that she wasn’t adverse to stomping on feet if it meant distracting her opponent enough to win.

Fortunately, Barney had chosen to wear his steel-toed boots that day. While they weren’t  _ technically  _ the dress code standard, they looked close enough to the regular uniform that no one should notice.

Except for maybe Silvia, depending on her actions.

As he slips into the chair across from her with a confident smile, Silvia grins back like she smells blood in the water.

“Feeling lucky, Barns?” She asks, faux-sweet as she sticks out her arm towards him.

He can’t help but roll his eyes as the nickname as he takes a moment to stretch his arms over his head, then roll his sleeve up to his elbow. “Yeah, as a matter of fact I am.”

Silvia laughs in good humor, blowing a few frazzled strands of straw-blond hair out of her face. “Well, are you gonna make a bet?”

Barney hums as he tests the table to see if it’ll wiggle any underneath them, then takes her hand.

“I don’t want your soda, Silvia, I just want your throne.”

The little crowd  _ oooooooos  _ around them and she makes a face, deepening the creases on her forehead. If he had to guess he’d say Silvia might be around her early forties as she had mentioned having a daughter about his age a few times. She didn’t offer to introduce him to her, thank god. If Barney wanted people trying to play matchmaker for him all his life he would’ve just stayed in Georgia. Contrary to his attempt at playing confident, Barney isn’t sure he has a chance of winning this one and he figures it’s probably best to sit out the bets until he knows he’s not going to owe someone more than ten dollars in soda. Again.

“Alright then, we’ll go on three. Elbows on the table and if your hand hits the table you’re out, got it?” He nods. She starts the countdown. “One.”

Her fingers tighten.

“Two.”

Barney can see the muscles in her bicep tense, even through the button-down.

“Three!”

Silvia starts off strong and Barney nearly loses before the match even has a chance to begin, barely managing to hold steady against her. He can see her frown when the burst of energy doesn’t secure her a swift victory and he starts to gain back ground. She drives her heel into the toe of his boot. He hardly notices it. 

It’s not long before Barney manages to win out of endurance, if nothing else, the back of Silvia’s hand hitting the table with a little  _ thunk. _

A few more rounds against other security guards Barney manages to win after that, before he spots Dr. Kleiner leading the flustered-looking new guy over by the crook of his arm. Gordon, if he’s remembering right - but he wouldn’t dare use a scientists first name without being told he can first. He’s seen enough of the other guards get chewed out for it that he’s learned his lesson well. For whatever reason, a lot of the scientists seemed to be real anal about that sort of thing.

“Good afternoon, Barney!” Kleiner chirps almost having to herd his companion closer to the table despite the fact that the crowd had thinned quite a bit. “Gordon, this is Barney Calhoun, one of the finest security guards in Black Mesa!” He makes a overly-grand sweeping gesture towards Barney, then brings his hand back to motion at the man he currently has caught by his elbow. “And this is the newest addition to our Sector C staff, Dr. Gordon Freeman.”

“Aww, Doc, y’don’t have to flatter me. Unless you’re doing it loud enough that my boss will hear, of course.”

Somewhere behind him, he can hear Otis’s hearty laugh.

Barney takes his chance to get a good look at this Dr. Freeman as he takes a careful seat across from him, right where Silvia was sitting not ten minutes prior. He realizes for the first time that this new guy has freckles, some of them nearly hidden behind the frame of his glasses. Just like the last time he saw him, he has his hair pulled into a ponytail and is wearing the customary science team white lab coat. The goatee is maybe a bit of an unconventional look around these parts, but he has to admit that the man is making it work - even with the facial hair through, he looks too young to be part of Black Mesa’s science team and much much too young to already be a  _ doctor. _ Barney is getting ready to ask him about it when Dr. Vance steps in closer, looking vaguely amused.

“Really, Izzy?” He asks, entirely too fond as he looks between Kleiner and Freeman. Barney had seen Dr. Vance around a few times, enough to know that he’s good friends with Kleiner but Freeman, too, seemed to know him.

Kleiner frowns in confusion. “‘Really’ what?”

Vance nods pointedly towards where Freeman is sitting across from Barney, making a face like he’d rather be just about anywhere else right now.

“Oh!” Kleiner claps his hands together as he’s reminded, looking ecstatic. “Would you be alright with Gordon challenging you? Just a friendly match, of course.”

“Sure thing, if he wants to.” In truth it kind of takes Barney off guard, he really didn’t think that’s what they were after even after Freeman had sat down. It was kind of an odd way to introduce yourself, especially when you consider that Freeman hadn’t said a word himself yet. That doesn’t mean that Barney would even think about saying no, though. Across from him, he sees Freeman give a short nod, even as his ears turn a little pink.

“Fifty on the nerd.” Vance chuckles as he takes a spot to watch nearby Barney’s elbow to watch. 

Otis guffaws at that and has to take a minute to catch his breath before he asks; “Which one?”

Freeman starts to turn from a shade of pink to red and Barney bristles too, shooting an indignant “Hey!” at his boss. Otis just laughs more and Barney turns to look in time to see the two shaking on it.

“You know I’m just messing with you. I’ll even split it with you if you win, Gordon.”

He cranes his neck to give Otis a hopeful look. “Boss?”

“Not a chance, Calhoun.” He smiles, “If you want a bet you’ll have to make it yourself.”

“What about raising team morale?”

“I said that  _ before  _ we started betting money.”

Barney heaves an exaggerated sigh and turns back to look at Freeman. Kleiner hovers over his shoulder like he’s trying to hype him up as he places his elbow on the table and offers Barney his hand. From what he can tell from under the lab coat (which isn’t very much) the man doesn’t look like he has a lot of muscle on him at all. He isn’t sure what Vance or Kleiner seem to be planning, but he decides to take it easy on him - for the sake of hopefully making a good first impression. Barney takes his hand.

His fingers are soft when compared to Barney’s and just a bit longer to boot, even if the whole hand is smaller. It’s a bit cold too, but almost in a pleasant way. Not clammy, like maybe he’d thought they’d be, given the scientist’s often nervous disposition but… cool. Pleasant. Like a nice breeze on a hot day, or maybe like how the little lizards always tended to be when he finally managed to scoop them back up in his hands and take them back outside.

Barney thinks that maybe that’s a good thing, as he himself always tends to run on the warmer side. Maybe they could balance each other out? In his chest, his heart speeds up traitorously at the thought but Barney is even quicker to squash the feeling down.

“I’ll tell you what. You win? If I catch you at the bar topside I’ll buy you a beer.” He’s not completely sure what makes him say it, but offers anyway.

It’s a quick moment before Freeman nods again, this time more sure of himself.

“Alright then, regular rules, we go on one.”

Across from him he can see the doctor take a deep breath as if to steady himself, and the way he tilts his head makes the light reflect off his glasses so Barney can’t see his eyes.

“Three.”

Barney makes sure his own arm is properly braced on the table - even though he’s decided to go easy on him, his opponent doesn’t need to know that.

“Two.”

There’s a heavy pause as Barney hopes he can throw him off with a little unpredictable timing. As the seconds pass, he stares his opponent down and wonders, not for the last time, who the hell let this guy’s eyes get so  _ green. _

“One!”

As soon as they start, Freeman does something weird, pulling Barney’s hand towards him and twisting his wrist in such a way that the back of his hand hits the table in mere seconds, leaving him defeated and absolutely slack-jawed. Barney had decided to go easy on him, sure, but not  _ that  _ easy.

_ “What?”  _ Barney blurts out, trying and failing to figure out if the other man cheated somehow. Otis gives a groan behind him and Vance laughs loudly in the good humor of a man who had just won fifty bucks. Was he really that distracted? There’s no way he was. He could  _ do this.  _

“Best two out of three?” He offers, doing his best to sound charming.

Freeman gives a little shrug, the ghost of a smile showing on his face.

The prospect of getting beat by a scientist more than once in an arm wrestle is for sure embarrassing, not to mention his boss watching the whole thing, but Barney finds himself  _ really  _ wanting to have a beer with the guy now, regardless of who’s buying.

They get ready to go again and Barney does his best not to look in those sharp eyes of his. “Alright… Three,”

Freeman shifts once again so he’s sitting more hunched over the table. He tries to mirror the doctor’s posture.

“Two.”

Breathe in.

“One.”

This time the match lasts a lot longer, maybe because Barney is expecting his opponent to do the funny thing with his wrist again. He’s able to push back hard enough that he can’t bend it but it still takes what feels like forever to push his hand down to the table. It’s probably only like… a few seconds though. It took a lot more than Barney thought it would to win though, and he tries not to show how hard he’s breathing. Freeman’s breathing deeper too, but it’s almost like he’s halfway to laughing, Barney can feel the little puffs of air as he stretches his arm out and they get ready to try again. He starts to smile for real this time but brings up his other hand to cover it. For some reason his smile seems contagious.

“Okay, last round. Do you want to count it?”

Freeman drops his hand as he shakes his head  _ no,  _ moving forward in his seat again. He hopes the doctor doesn’t notice how sweaty his palm has gotten.

“Suit yourself then. Three,”

Breathe deep,  _ focus! _

“Two.” 

Barney hopes to god his voice didn’t waver as much as he thought it did on that.

“One!”

When they start the struggle in instantaneous, though Barney seems to have the upper hand. Freeman’s arm wavers about halfway towards the table for a couple of tense seconds and Barney can see his little frown. He doesn’t seem to be pressing back too hard - is he trying to get Barney to tire himself out?

Making up his mind, Barney tries to suddenly pin the doctor’s arm to the table, but he holds strong, even though it’s pretty close. Then, Freeman starts to push back, almost getting their hands back to the starting position. In a blur, his opponent pulls hard on his hand, securing victory in a single movement.

There’s an odd feeling in his chest as Dr. Freeman loosens his grip and stands, sticking his hand out to Barney once again. It takes a bit longer than it should for him to realize he’s asking for a handshake.

“Well, I guess I owe you a beer then, Doc.” Barney manages, too dumbfounded to say much on anything else. Freeman doesn’t say anything, just gives him a little wave nearly identical to the one the day prior and starts to make his way out of the cafeteria. Kleiner follows after him, smile bright and happy for him as Vance stays to collect his winnings.

Barney watches them go until the door swings shut behind them.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Shaking out the sting in his wrist after his lunch break, Barney can vividly remember his father telling him once;  _ “Never date a woman you can’t beat in an arm wrestle. And don’t you ever marry her.” _

His words bounce around in his skull as he walks to his next post.

Apparently, it was supposed to be advice, even though that’s exactly how his father and his mother had met - in an arm wrestling match. He can still picture her rolling her eyes from across the room as he says it. Their marriage certainly wasn’t the worst, but sometimes Barney gets the feeling that she’s more happy being a widow than she was being a wife.

Getting his helmet from his locker, he wonders if his father would say the same thing about  _ men  _ you can’t beat in an arm wrestling contest. 

The thought drifts around like cheap cologne as he fights the unforgiving strap on his helmet.

  
  
  


Well, regardless, Barney had always been a mama’s boy, through and through. Maybe he’d ask  _ her,  _ sometime, when he got the chance to.

He shuts the locker to go about his day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey maybe all the other chapters will be this speedy too? heh, probably not, but I can dream! I have part of the next chapter written but who knows when i'll actually finish it? not me, dear reader, not me.
> 
> I hope you liked it!!! Have a wonderful day or night!!! Let me know if I made a mistake or you would like me to tag anything!! Thank you so very much for reading!!!!! and as always comments make me write faster! trust me -it's science, and I'd never lie to you about science!

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter was meant to be a lot longer but i just sat and Stared at the google doc instead of actually finalizing my draft today. I was planning to have this first chapter include their first proper bet too but i Promised myself id post this tonight so. sorry about it being short :(


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